Falling Away (Fall Away #3)

“Yes, sir. Of course.” I fisted the strap of the bag hanging over my shoulder, feeling embarrassed. “And thank you for trusting me with this.”

His blue eyes softened, and he shot me a small smile. “This will be your room.” He nodded to Dr. Porter’s lab and then handed me the file folders in his hand. “Diagnostic assessments telling you where each student stands, teacher notes, lesson plans, and worksheet master copies. Study up, and see you Monday, K.C.”

And then he left, leaving me to look around and get the lay of the land. I had so many questions. These kids were seventeen. What if they didn’t want to listen to someone who was only a few years older? What would I do with behavior problems? Of course, Jared and Jaxon Trent no longer went to school here, but I was sure other douche bags had replaced them. And why were we holding tutoring sessions for writing in the chemistry lab? Didn’t I need to be fingerprinted to work with minors?

Oh, wait. I had been fingerprinted.

I laughed to myself, figuring it was better than crying. How shit changes.

When you’re in high school, you think you’re so smart and plans will always work out. You think you’ll be on the road to success with money in your pocket and a busy schedule, because you’re so important, having become exactly the person you always wanted to be as soon as you leave high school.

What they don’t tell you is that you’re more confused at twenty than you were at seventeen. And looking through the window on the door to the classroom, I rubbed the chills from my arms, wondering if I’d be even more confused at twenty-five than I was right now. The road had been clear before, and now it was so muddy that I could barely even walk.

But walking was all I was going to do this summer. Since I’d lost my license for a year, I let Nik take my car to San Diego with her and took comfort in the fact that I didn’t have any friends in town—right now, at least—that would make it a burden for me not to be driving.

School and the gym. Occasionally the grocery store. Those were the only places I’d be going, and they were all a healthy, but manageable, hike from Tate’s house.

I decided to head back there, opting out of stepping foot in the classroom until I had to. I deserved my punishment, but that still didn’t make it easier to face spending all summer in a hot, musty building filled with people who didn’t want to be there any more than I did.

Leaving the school, I dug out Tate’s iPod and fit the earbuds into my ears. As I scrolled through the playlist, I couldn’t help smiling as I realized I didn’t recognize a single song she’d loaded.

I loved Tate’s taste in music, even before I met her. But over the years I’d gotten tired of battling my mother on the songs she’d hear coming from my room, and so I gave up. On all music. I rarely listened to anything, because her voice would always invade my thoughts and ruin it.

Clicking on Chevelle’s “Take Out the Gunman,” I cranked up the volume so loud my ears ached. But I still broke out in a huge smile when that sexy voice started and fireworks started going off in my chest. I couldn’t hear my mother in my head or anything but the thunder of music, making me laugh, making my heart beat, and making my head bob as I walked home.

The neighborhood streets were calm, the occasional car breezing past, and the sun on my legs felt so warm I realized how much I had missed my hometown in the summer.

The lush green trees looming around me, their leaves dancing in the breeze. The smell of lawns being cut and barbecues grilling dinner. The children racing up to the ice cream truck as it pulled over to the curb.

I loved it all, and for the first moment in a very long time, I was at ease. Even despite the trouble I’d gotten into.

I realized no one was waiting for me, no one was watching me, and no one was bothering me. Eventually my mother would call. Eventually I’d have to go to tutoring on Monday. And eventually I’d have to return to my political science major in the fall.

But if only for this moment, I was free.

And damn hot. I ran my fingers across my hairline, wiping off a bit of sweat. That’s one thing where Arizona wins out over Shelburne Falls. Less humidity there.

But I’d dressed as smart as I could. I’d worn a white crochet skirt that made my tanned legs look so much more awesome than they actually were, but I kept it conservative on top with a thin, button-up white blouse. The stickiness on my back was already too much. I unbuttoned the shirt and pulled it off, slinging it over the messenger bag and leaving me in my white cami.

My dark hair hung down past my shoulder blades, and now that it was getting windblown and sweaty from the walk, I wished I’d pulled it up.

Stepping over the curb, I walked across the empty street and suddenly felt my heart plummet into my stomach.

Oh, no.

Looking over the vast green lawn of the town park, I saw Liam’s Camaro parked in front of Applebaum’s Bagels. Liam. My ex-boyfriend who cheated on me twice and was supposed to be staying in Phoenix for the summer. Shit!

My head fell back, and I closed my eyes. Fuck my luck.

My teeth clenched, and every damn muscle in my body was charged.

But then I jumped, startled. A sudden jolt of vibrations tingled my feet and shot straight up my legs.

I opened my eyes and turned around to see that I’d stopped in the middle of the street I’d been attempting to cross before Liam’s Camaro grabbed my attention. I blinked, staring wide-eyed at a car—actually, a ton of cars—as they just sat there, staring back at me and waiting for me to move my ass out of their way. How long had they been there before I noticed?